A quintessentially sinister masterpiece by The Homosexuals founder Amos, reissued for the first time in an edition limited to 365 copies. A mysterious 1982 cassette masterpiece by Amos & Crew from the It's War Boys catalogue remastered from the original tapes by Amos himself. Sailored, Dutchwifed, and highly-refinedly laid-out by Studio Shitless. Art by Err o'. Large four-page full-color insert with an essay by Ed Baxter and a text translated by Derek Bentley from the original Japanese (1982). "Recorded in Tokyo, Japan on Mr Shiotas old four track cassette in Mr Kitamuras kitchen in sporadic three day binge," according to the original insert. Recorded by Amos while on tour with The Work in Japan. Not on the Nurse With Wound list! Existing exactly mid-way between the dropping of the atomic bomb and the time a moment ago when you opened this insensibly incendiary package, the throwaway aesthetic of True Tears now glows like a malevolent object in an ever-expanding universe. It's an emetic emissary from the senseless empire of the incredible shrinking man, an attack of a fifty-foot pylon into which The Three Stooges recklessly bang nails in the hope of a hereafter. It's above all an invocation of a truly plastic world. Nails are forced into each other's heads. Heels clatter on new vinyl steps, the apartment rents out at only slightly more than average, and this is a good neighborhood. We watch the traffic as if alert to the nuances of a symphony, the choreography at midnight might as well be some modernist masterpiece, and the descent of the planes in the darkness, tubes of incandescent cells, strikes terror into all the denizens of the deep. So when I say plastic, Douglas, I mean consider the landmarks that emerge from the fog in the landscape of the last two centuries. Ruin. Cot. Window. Corpse. Airplane. Aerial Photograph. Fossil. Groove. Pine grove. Hoover. Hoe. And so on. And then consider too the tools that allow for the forensic examination of all that matters in the last 100 years or so, the age of relativity that has thrown up parallel universes, murder mysteries, musique concrète, detail, childhood, The Other, and a dismissal even by savants of consensus reality.